


Flowers, Fruit and Vodka

by rivendellrose



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-29
Updated: 2012-03-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 16:20:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivendellrose/pseuds/rivendellrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Susan absolutely never intended to end up curled up on her couch with the Minbari ambassador.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers, Fruit and Vodka

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hearts_blood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearts_blood/gifts).



Susan absolutely never intended to end up curled up on her couch with the Minbari ambassador. Never planned on folding her arms neatly around that willowy little body, resting her cheek on the comfortingly cool, hard structure of what remained of the other woman’s bone crest, and stroking her hands up and down the smooth silks of Delenn’s robes. Absolutely not. And if she had once or twice considered how appealing the other woman’s smile could be, or how weirdly sweet and smoky her hair smelled, well, she couldn’t be faulted for that, could she? She was Human, even if Delenn wasn’t... not exactly, although she was more Human than she used to be, and the Minbari side of her wasn’t nearly as abhorrent or disturbing as Susan had once been sure all Minbari would always be... in fact, it was hard now to remember that ten years before she had been vehemently opposed to the idea of Earth entering into peaceful, friendly relations with the Minbari Federation. 

And she wasn’t drunk, either. Susan Ivanova did not get drunk off just a few drinks down at the bar. Nope. She was, at most, pleasantly tipsy. And Delenn didn’t seem to mind that fact.

The ambassador had joined the senior staff in the bar earlier in the evening, drinking some kind of spicy-smelling Minbari herbal tea and smiling that smile of hers that was weirdly compelling and, as the night grew on and the vodka in front of Susan kept refilling, damnably adorable. John and the others had eventually called it a night - and if Susan wasn’t mistaken there had been a sort of a lingering quality to the look John cast in Delenn’s direction as he’d left, which she’d really need to ask him about if this ever happened again - but Delenn had stayed. She’d laughed at Susan’s increasingly wild stories, and touched her arm frequently in a way that was totally unnecessary and pretty much had to be a common body-language sign of _some_ kind of interest, or at least sympathy. Susan didn’t have duty the day - one of her once-in-a-damned-blue-moon days totally free - and apparently Delenn either didn’t have anything scheduled for at least the early morning, or if she did she didn’t care much if she was awake for it, because they were out late. And when, by some mutual agreement that Susan couldn’t remember, they had both got up to leave, she’d somehow ended up hooking her arm with Susan’s, tucking her pretty, pale hand into Susan’s elbow, and walking at her side all the way to Susan’s door. Her soft robe swished against Susan’s leg the whole way, and her shoulder kept bumping into Susan’s in a deliciously intentional way. 

When they got in, Susan offered her a drink. 

“I’m afraid that would not be wise,” Delenn reminded Susan, smiling in the way of an Eve who turned down the apple, but only because she really wanted a peach.

Susan, too pleasantly buzzed to consider that this was probably a bad idea on about a million levels, made a show of pouring a glass of plain water for Delenn, and then another straight vodka for herself. She spilled a little on the couch as she sat down, but that only made Delenn laugh, and Delenn’s bright laughter made her laugh, too.

“This is absolutely insane,” Susan told her impromptu guest as she sipped (slowly, she was drinking slowly now, wasn’t she? Be careful, Susan, this isn’t just any girl...) at her vodka and watched Delenn touch the glass of water to her pink lips. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“These are your quarters,” Delenn reminded her in a solemn voice, even as her eyes were positively glittering. 

“No, I mean you shouldn’t be here,” Susan corrected herself. “I mean, you’re welcome, I’m happy to have you. Here, to have you here. I’m happy.”

She was making positively no sense, but she found that she didn’t particularly care. Delenn was smiling again, and laughing a soft, low laugh that made Susan want to kiss her. No, it was her lips that made Susan want to kiss her. Or her eyes, cool grey-green like the underside of pine needles, like lichen peeking from under the snow, like trees through mist... like overblown metaphors being thought by a woman who had really been without a good lay for too long, and had fallen head over heels for the most unapproachable woman on the whole damned station, if not in the universe. But Delenn was not acting at all unapproachable that night, and maybe that was a magic that could work in Susan’s favor, if only she kept from sobering up long enough to see every reason she shouldn’t lean forward and kiss those beautiful, dusty-rose lips. She leaned in. 

Delenn’s hand, resting lightly but firmly in the center of her chest, stopped her. The warm, grey-green eyes were bright, clear, and a little sad. “Susan... not like this, _ah’melierla._

“Ah’ma’what?” Susan mumbled.

Delenn laughed, and gathered herself for another try. Once more with English, please, Susan thought. Or Russian. Russian was the real language for this conversation, for drunken, late-night admissions and the secret surrenders and refusals that followed, leading everyone to ruin in such a beautiful and inexorable decline. Like falling, but slowly and with a resigned kind of grace. She would have to teach Delenn to speak Russian. 

But at the moment, Delenn was still speaking. “Not like this, my... very dear friend Susan. If you and I are to kiss, or to even do more than that, I would not want it to be when you are indisposed like this.”

Petty hurt overcame the light-headed pleasure of the moment all too quickly. “Why the hell not?” Susan grumbled. “It’s practically a Human tradition. Two friends, too much alcohol, a bed... It might as well be a ritual, or as close to it as we have, anymore.”

Again with the sweet laughter that sounded like bells. “I don’t disbelieve you, from what I have seen of your culture. But you are not yourself just now, my friend. And if I am to have you, and to let you have me, I want to have all of you. Not,” as she reached out and plucked the glass from Susan’s hand, setting it on the little table behind her, out of Susan’s reach, and wiping her hand virtuously on the sleeve of her robes before she wrapped its smooth, warm fingers around Susan’s, “only the part that is released by a mind-altering drug.”

Shot down and suddenly overwhelmed by the crash that came after too much alcohol-induced whimsy and freedom, Susan turned away. 

Delenn’s fingers caught her chin and pulled her gently but firmly back. “Hear what I am saying, Susan. I am not saying no. I am saying ‘not tonight.’ Not yet, _ah’melierla._ Later. When you are all yourself, awake and clear-headed, if you still want me, I will be here.”

“Here?” Susan asked.

Delenn nodded. “Unless you prefer that I leave? Or,” she added with a mischeivous little smile, “if you do not think you can behave yourself if I stay?”

Susan wanted to snort, to scoff, to say that she was damned sure she could hold her own against anybody, keep her wits about her in any situation, she wasn’t _that_ drunk, anyway... but, “What do you count as behaving myself?”

That smile was so bright it could blot out whole galaxies of stars. “I will sleep in your bed, if you have no complaints, or here if you prefer. In either case, I will keep my under-robe on, and your hands will remain on top of it. As will mine on top of your clothes,” Delenn added primly. “No kissing, no touching of areas that would cause intense arousal, and no slipping hands under clothes.”

The mental calculus took a little longer with alcohol and a descending awareness of her need for sleep clouding Susan’s mind. “But... you would stay here. Sleep in my bed. And we could touch.”

Delenn nodded, regal as a queen. While she was far from considering herself a peasant, Susan couldn’t convince herself to do anything but bow to that decree. She undressed - aware all the while of Delenn’s eyes lingering on her body from across the room - and if she happened to choose her silkiest, most alluring nightgown, well, who the hell could blame her? She watched Delenn undress down to a thin white shift that clung to her hips and smooth stomach and thighs, and whose thin fabric seemed only to exist to rub delicate nipples into little rosebuds of anticipation. 

Susan’s throat was suddenly dry, and she looked away to gulp a glass of water and try to clear her head. No touching in areas that would cause intense arousal, Delenn had said. No slipping hands under clothes. It was like a fairy tale - the prohibitions sounded so sensible until suddenly they were exactly the thing you most needed, most desperately wanted to do. Her mind was lost in fantasies just barely out of reach - smoothing the tantalizing drapery of that under-robe beneath her hands, thumbing those budded nipples through the cloth until the blossom of Delenn’s mouth burst into bloom with a gasp of pleasure, a moan that begged for more, more, more, and then sliding her hands up those impossibly smooth ivory thighs, the white under-robe pooling and spilling away above her hands, resting on hips, on rounded buttocks that fit perfectly into her hands. A detour up the arching contour of the spine before skating back down, starting again at the slight mound of belly and going back up to cup small, perfect breasts in her hands, fall to her knees and taste the sweet skin. Lick the soft peaks until their tips were so hard they were almost painful, until the sweet, low voice was begging her for release, and then to slip her fingers between the thighs and seek out every possible angle of pleasure...

Behind her, Delenn coughed delicately, and the heated play of her imagination fell away. Her quarters were dim. She turned, almost ready to tell Delenn that no, they shouldn’t be doing this, she couldn’t trust herself not to break the rules Delenn had laid down. 

But Delenn was already laying on her bed, the blankets in front of her turned down and a space clearly open for Susan Ivanova. Susan Ivanova who was definitely going to be in big trouble in the morning, definitely cursed, definitely going to regret all of this so very much... and who wasn’t about to look at those those saintly, devilish sparkling eyes and say “Get out.” No way in hell. She straightened her back, tossed her hair back over her shoulder, and walked toward her doom like a proper, proud, doomed Russian soldier.

Defeat and disaster had never felt so perfectly wonderful as Delenn’s arms sliding around her as she pulled the covers up over them both. Delenn moulded the curves of her body against Susan’s, turning her back to the taller woman and shimmying into place against her front - silky-smooth thighs against Susan’s, small round behind curving into her groin, and the plane of her upper back pressing back into Susan’s breasts, which were suddenly far more tender than she’d remembered them being earlier. Every touch of Delenn’s skin seemed to wake up Susan’s. Her whole body was at unbearable attention, and nothing in her physiology as a whole seemed to have quite caught on yet to the fact that no, nothing more exciting was going to be happening tonight. Settle down, body. Cool it.

Susan lay perfectly still for a long moment, trying to breathe in calm but really only breathing the sweet-incense perfume of Delenn’s hair. 

“Delenn?”

“Mmm?”

That voice was unspeakably sexy. Not helping the cool-down. Susan shivered. “You... you’ll be here in the morning?” she asked quietly. She had meant it to sound assured, confident, casual, but even as she spoke the words she knew too much of her real uncertainty and misgivings had crep out with them. Delenn turned in her arms, and even in the darkness she could see the bright eyes searching hers and seeing far more than Susan was usually willing to show.

A soft hand rested over her heart. “I will be here, Susan,” Delenn promised. 

Susan covered the hand with hers. “I’ve seen you do this before. It’s a Minbari thing, right?” A nod, shadow on shadow. “What does it mean?”

The thumb that rested on Susan’s clavicle stroked the skin with smooth, soothing little motions. “It means that we are close. That I carry you in my heart when we are separate from each other, and that I wish to be in your heart always, as well, so I can always be with you.”

Susan twined their fingers, squeezing tightly. “So... this is more than just one night, huh? I mean, maybe. It might be.”

“More than maybe,” Delenn told her simply. “If it were not, I would not have stopped you from kissing me, Susan. I promise you, I wanted very badly not to. But this,” she squeezed Susan’s fingers in return, “means more to me than one night lost in pleasure and abandoned in the mist of an unawake mind. This,” again, “I would have awake, with eyes open, so it may be real, and lasting.”

Susan sighed, lifted the fingers to her lips and kissed them, and then wrapped her arms closely around the other woman, nuzzled her face into her soft hair, and fell fast asleep, dreaming of the morning.


End file.
